


bronco breaking

by lambchops (lambmeat)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Degradation, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Hate Sex, M/M, Mutual Pining, No Lube, pissing inside
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:33:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27458815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lambmeat/pseuds/lambchops
Summary: Report after report resulting in disciplinary charges landing on everyone but McCree, he's starting to act like he's invincible, and nothing Reyes can do will make him straighten out. When yet another pending assault charge lands on his desk with McCree implicated, something in him snaps.Full of crude jokes, an instinct for mischief, and a sense of Reyes' patience, McCree finally crosses a line, and Reyes thinks to show McCree just how much of a joke it is to him in a language he'll listen to.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Reaper | Gabriel Reyes
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	bronco breaking

**Author's Note:**

> i labelled it dubcon because consent wasn't explicitly given- mccree and reyes both have been eyeballing each other for years and something in reyes just snaps

“McCree.”

The unruly agent hardly acknowledges him until he hears his commander’s footsteps stop just feet from him. Even then, it’s hardly anything more than a glance thrown over his shoulder.

“I’m busy, what’d’ya want?”

Years of patience and attempts at reform have been worn to nothing as McCree, once again, gets into another fist fight during drills and sends another agent to the infirmary. He got out unscathed and managed to fearmonger the poor agent into blaming one of the other mutts in McCree’s pack. Word travelled to Reyes by mid-day, and he found McCree hanging back in the locker room, about reading to hit the showers, acting as if all was right in the world.

“You want to tell me why I have another report sitting on my desk for a pending assault charge in my unit?” Reyes grits, barely restrained ire shining through in how slowly and calmly his words land in the space between them. McCree only offers a shrug, fiddling with some items in his locker.

“Dunno what you’re talkin’ ‘bout, boss.”

“Right, just as Jason and Peterson don’t know either,” Reyes says, humoring McCree’s insolence for once. “They’ve been told to pack their things and find something else to do with their time besides waste mine.”

That gets a reaction out of McCree, who slams his locker door shut and whips around in surprise with an edge of worry. The threat of eviction has never done much to scare Jesse, seeing as Reyes made it clear from the get-go that he was going to straighten the cowboy out if it breaks both of them. Anyone else threatening eviction from the base, which would inevitably lead to McCree’s arrest once released, carried no weight. With Reyes finally at his wits end and insinuating that it was a very real possibility, McCree swallows uneasily, trying to compose his cool demeanor.

“Ya cut them?” McCree asks incredulously before chuckling, a nervous little sound, “‘bout time, they weren’t any good.”

“And what makes you think you’re any better?” Reyes mutters, and he’s serious. It makes McCree’s stomach drop. A terse silence stretches between them as McCree tries to scramble some halfwit excuse as to why Reyes ought to give him another chance, just as he’s done a thousand times before.

“No one shoots better than me.”

“I can train somebody else.”

“You don’t got the time left in ya.” McCree’s own lack of amusement is evident as he deadpans, raising an eyebrow in challenge. The only humor he has is malicious and blunt to bleed Reyes of his will. Reyes simply says nothing for a moment, taking a deep breath before growling.

“You got a mouth ten sizes too big, McCree.”

“Bet’cha think ‘bout that a lot then, huh?”

Stalking forward, Reyes acts before McCree has the time to regret his cocky words. Faster than McCree can evade, Reyes grabs a tight handful of his messy hair, wrenching his head back painfully far and snarling as his agent grits his teeth to silence any pain.

If there is one thing that gets on his nerves like nothing else, it’s McCree’s absolutely unabashed flirting with everyone he ought not to. His favorite target is Commander Reyes, the most untouchable target, and Gabriel is hyper aware of each and every comment, look, and purposeful touch. It’s been a tactful game of dodging everything McCree has thrown his way, lest he think he’s being led on and causing Reyes to wind up in a situation he’d have no way of explaining his way out of.

Mostly because he probably wouldn’t hold himself back. The cowboy is stupid handsome and he knows it too well. He’s witnessed McCree transform into a strapping young man, built and lean while still soft in all the right places (not that he’s checked in the reflections of the locker room when Jesse has been turned towards the showers). Nothing Reyes has ever done has conveyed interest of any sort, hardly enough to even register them as colleagues, but something has wormed its way into the dense core of McCree’s head and made it to where he dogs Reyes to no end.

“Think about how you’re lucky I haven’t broken your god damn jaw yet?” Reyes hisses, “Yes, I do.”

“Too pretty?” McCree tries, testing his luck further than he ever has before. Or he simply doesn’t know how to shut up, even when it’d be good for him. This is the first time that Reyes has ever gotten violently angry with him and  _ shown  _ it. He has seen how his actions paint the tops of Reyes’ knuckles with bloody sores from abusing a gym bag over hours on occasion, and he’s seen other agents dive over the threshold of Reyes’ patience without abandon, but him? He has been toeing the line for years, not quite enough to warrant an outburst from Reyes but enough to slowly dog at him.

Reyes’ eye twitches at the comment, and the next thing he knew, his legs had buckled and he’s been forced onto his knees. The brutally tight grip in his hair remains with Reyes’ looming over him.

Seeing McCree on his knees, eyes narrowed and face flushed from the dump of adrenaline in his veins, makes something snap in Reyes. The anger breeding a violent itch under his skin shifts, struggles, and twists itself into a tight knot in his stomach that makes the temperature of the room jump ten degrees. 

Just as much as McCree couldn’t give a rats ass about the organization as a whole, he couldn’t really care about the stigma and policies separating him from McCree in that moment. Maybe they have something in common after all.

Harder than what was at all necessary, Reyes uses his leverage to force McCree’s face into his groin. The surprise is evident as his eyes blow wide in shock before narrowing up at Reyes. Unable to move away, hair fisted too tightly to escape, McCree raises an eyebrow at him.

“Do something useful with that mouth before I break it,” Reyes snarls, twisting and tightening to make his agent wince. The flush that had blossomed across his cheeks darkens just so as it became evident that Gabriel was  _ serious. _ Here, in the locker room, Reyes wanted him to blow him. 

It did ease some of the tension out of him, seeing as now that Reyes has… forced himself onto McCree, all of his threats have become void. If he were to initiate something as inappropriate as this with an agent and then boot them from the organization, then he was perfectly capable of charging the honorable commander with something career-ending. Not that he was complaining, but if Reyes tries to leverage the concept of expulsion over his head one more time, he has something just as sharp to fight back with.

Inhaling deeply through his nose, he can’t help but fixate on the heavy musk of his commander’s post-sparring sweat. It’s thick, damp with sweat, and clouds his senses as he leans into it without thinking. Panting out a breath if just so take in another deep lungful of the rich, off-sweet scent, he hears Reyes scoff above him.

Ripping him away just to pull his sweats and boxers down under his balls, Reyes presses him back in, and McCree goes happily. With a little bit of slack, he freely presses his nose against his balls and breathes, hands coming to brace on Reyes’ thighs. Half-mast, Gabriel’s cock twitches as McCree’s hot breath puffs over the sensitive skin. 

Nuzzling his shaft, McCree sighs as he licks a stripe across Reyes’ balls, trying to collect the sweat off his skin. It’s sharp and salty and distinctly Reyes, and McCree feels his cock ache in his sweats and he continues to worship his sweaty cock.

It’s clear that McCree is deriving too much enjoyment from this, and it makes Reyes scowl, his anger not yet tempered by his growing arousal. All the attention has caused him to fill out considerably, cock hanging heavy between them with some room to grow still. Even with the daunting sight of it and the threat of abuse, McCree still challenges him.

The purpose of this was supposed to be an exercise in superiority, not to allow McCree to live out his dirtiest fantasies about his commander. 

Maybe that was on Reyes, who knew full well that McCree only viewed him as a walking sex god of sorts and held that image of him higher than his reality as a commander.

“Want me to break your throat, kid?” Reyes growls, pulling him away to wedge a thumb into his mouth and open his jaw. All he gets in reply is an attempt at a smirk and challenging eyes.

He sticks his tongue out, having collected ample spit on it.

If this is the game McCree wanted to win, he’ll get his prize.

Flexing his hips forward, he slides the soft tip against McCree’s eager tongue and doesn’t stop until McCree flinches, gagging with a few inches in his throat. The only kindness Reyes shows is that he stills for a second and draws an inch out before trying again. While McCree still tries to fight it in weak spasms of his throat and tears in his waterline, Reyes ultimately wins out when McCree’s nose rests in the nest of hair at the base of his stomach.

After a moment, McCree squeezes his thighs and looks up at him in a plea for air. Reyes obliges if just to force it back down the next moment, sighing deeply as the wet walls of McCree’s throat stroke him without him even moving. 

Holding Jesse steady, he decides that he’s had it easy enough before he starts to fuck his mouth; quick, deep thrusts make McCree choke consistently and causes a few loose tears to slide down his cheeks. He can feel the anatomy of his throat bulging out with the silhouette of his cock as he moves to frame his throat with his broad palm.

Quiet, wet moans escape from McCree’s busy throat as he moves with Reyes’ manhandling. From his perspective, it is hard to see what’s happening in McCree’s lap, but pulling him away and holding him at arms length reveals that he’s achingly hard in his sweats.

Hand fisted in his hair, keeping his head craned back at an aching angle, McCree only smirks with gleaming eyes.

“Too much, old man?” McCree taunts, voice thick and low. Even with spit dribbling down his chin, he still holds a shit-eating grin. It’s mind-boggling, how having his commander’s cock forced down his throat does nothing to deter his bad behavior.

Reyes simply narrows his eyes.

Scruffing McCree’s uniform shirt in the neck, he hauls him to his feet with ease before throwing him back against his locker. The gunslinger takes it like it’s a joke, huffing a chuckle through his nose and raising an eyebrow. 

“Shut it,” Reyes growls as he flips and forces McCree’s chest against the unforgiving and cold locker, “you think this is a joke?” The breath leaves his lungs as Reyes presses his body weight against him as he works his sweats and briefs down. McCree’s cock hangs heavy between his legs, evidence of his exuberant enthusiasm. Completely ignoring it, Reyes spreads him open and spits right on his hole, causing the younger to flinch. 

Taking his cock in hand, Reyes presses the tip against his hole, smearing the spit across it.

Suddenly, McCree turns serious. 

“H-hey, hold on now…” He shuffles his feet, but Reyes presses a hand against the back of his head, keeping his face pressed against the metal grates of the locker. Jesse is a little more resistant, trying to push away from the locker. This isn’t what he thought he was getting.

Wasn’t expecting a kiss and a pouting request for him to play nice, but he wasn’t expecting this either.

“Calm down, McCree,” Reyes grunts, “or it’s gonna be a lot worse for you.”

“Reyes-” McCree eeks out, turning his face into the locker as the tip pops in, “--a-ah, shit…”

With a deep sigh through his nose, Reyes angles his hips and stuffs more of his cock into McCree’s tight hole. Half-way in, McCree whimpers and makes a fist against the locker, forehead pressed against it to hide his face.

Only letting McCree feel half of his cock, he starts to work his hole open with shallow thrusts. It’s sinfully tight, and Reyes can’t help a groan as he holds his hips tight and tries to bottom out.

“G-Gabe,” McCree bites out, before growling against the locker.

“Beg, McCree.”

He knows how big he is, how big he feels splitting open his tight hole. Spit is nothing in terms of lube, and he’s sure McCree’s feeling it as Reyes stuffs every inch of his cock inside of him. His only saving grace is how thickly he coated Reyes’ cock with his own drool when he was happily choking on him, but even that can only go so far. 

“Piss off.”

Reyes scoffs. Obstinate and foolhardy to a fault. 

With a quick buck, stuffing the last two inches in Jesse’s guts, he stills if just to let McCree accommodate. There is a tense moment where McCree doesn’t utter a sound, throat locked up in the beginnings of a groan, before he shakily exhales, “shit…”

“Gonna behave?”

Thoughts are clearly swimming around in the fish globe that is McCree’s swimming head, drowning him in bliss as he  _ finally  _ gets his commander’s cock in him. He truly doesn’t care in that moment that it isn’t the other way around like he has been fantasizing about for years, even as the stretch makes him grit his teeth and the pull makes his lungs flutter on each exhale.

Was thinking of making the commander feel just like this, his own fat cock spreading him open. 

Maybe make Reyes work for  _ him. _

“This what I get for actin’ up?” McCree drawls, shuffling his feet apart as best as he could, “An’ you think I’ll quit?” His tone is incredulous, catching Reyes at a crossroads cause while he doesn’t think he’s willing to give up the sinfully tight heat he’s forced himself into, he wasn’t trying to encourage the bad behavior that led them to where they are to begin with.

Reyes only sniffs, fists the back of McCree’s standard issue shirt, and pulls out all the way to his puffy rim.

“Was thinking that the promise of lube would change your mind, but…” Reyes trails off, his hips angling the only warning McCree gets before his commander snaps forward, all the way to the hilt. Sighing happily, he grinds in if just to revel in how McCree’s body wrapped around him so snugly, hot and soft on him. “It’s your hole,” Reyes finishes, bemused as Jesse groans, stunted and guttural. 

“Like y’er cock is gonna do anything t’me,” McCree drawls before he can stop himself.

“You really gotta be stupid,” Reyes says flatly. He watches how McCree’s body stretches around him at his thickest, halfway out. Stilling just to let more spit fall from his lips, he pushes the pseudo-lube into McCree’s hole with his thumb pressing in beside his cock. It garners a choked noise as he flinches beneath him, even as his body gives way.

“Shit, maybe you’re right,” Reyes sneers, stuffing two fingers into McCree’s impossibly tight heat. “Jesus, kid.”

McCree blushes all the way to the tips of his ears as the jaded awe in his commander’s voice warms his guts. Truthfully, Reyes is likely the biggest he’s ever taken- even if Gabriel doesn’t believe so by the way he just seems to take and take and take. He’s slowly losing any higher brain processing as Reyes feeds his cock back into him, grabbing his shirt to keep him steady while the other snakes around his chest to keep him upright.

He manages to coax nothing more with his own antagonism, McCree largely silent aside from grunts and groans as Reyes worked his hole open. Unforgivingly extensive thrusts, hard and deep and debatably mercilessly slow, grow easier to take over time, until McCree’s vocalisations are no longer tinged with discomfort and reluctance. 

It was a damnable fact that wouldn’t leave Reyes mind that anyone could walk in at that moment and catch him balls deep in one of his subordinates. It would be career suicide for him, but also social tragedy for McCree’s desperately fought for ring-leader status for the roving pack of delinquents who decided they were at the top of the agent body hierarchy. With how Jesse is beginning to relax under him and moan more unabashedly, louder and with his whole chest, it would be a miracle if they weren’t discovered.

“Wouldn’t want one of your buddies finding you like this, now would we?” Reyes taunts, dipping his fingers into McCree’s mouth to collect some of the ample spit pooling under his tongue, just to smear it across his high cheekbones. “Can’t let anyyone know how much you like it when I fuck you like a bitch.”

Weakly, lackluster, McCree grits his teeth, says, “shut it…” Each word is halting as they’re pinched out between his teeth, faltering and uncertain. His eyes are pinched shut as he takes it, hands braced against the cold locker door that fogs with his panting breath.

“Maybe you do,” Reyes thinks out loud, relishing the way that the insinuation makes McCree shrink just so, pulling his hands close to his face as if to hide his furious blush. “You want your buddies to use you too?”

“I--”

“Let them take turns with you,” Reyes continues, ignoring the mortified squeak he hears as he starts to fuck McCree in earnest. He scoffs, “or all at once, your hole is so greedy.”

A desperate groan escapes as McCree hangs his head. Keeping himself braced on one of his elbows, he tries to sneak a hand towards his cock, bobbing and dribbling precum into his clothes around his knees, but Reyes catches him before he can so much as get his hand around himself.

“You think you get to cum, McCree?” Gabriel snarls, slamming his wrist against the locker and breathing hot in his ear as he stills. The rhetorical question does little to him as though he simply accepted from the start that Reyes was the type to consider orgasm something that had to be earned. The weight of his cock makes Jesse’s gut feel heavy, and he can only imagine what it’ll feel like to take his load- something he’s shamefully thought of before, if he cums like a bull in rut and how it would warm his belly. 

“You don’t even deserve my cum,” Reyes hisses, as if knowing where his thoughts have drifted. Now McCree stirs, because if Reyes wasn’t fucking him to get off, then what else could he be doing? It certainly wasn’t to teach Jesse a lesson, as there were a thousand different ways he could think of that might make him actually sit still through a drill for once. Maybe Reyes  _ wanted  _ to be caught, no matter how detrimental that would be for the commander himself. What lesson was he trying to teach?

“If y’ain’t gonna fuck me proper,” McCree starts, flexing his fist as he tried to in a clear train of thought, “then why fuck me at all?” He’s growling, trying to stay even with Reyes’ self-control; his commander has hardly broken a sweat, has hardly emitted a single noise past the infrequent groan and scoff. 

If anything, it seemed like a chore to stick his dick in McCree, like he had better things he wanted to do.

It stung a little, somewhere in him, the floor fell out, either from his heart or his stomach. He knew he kept crossing lines but… he didn’t think Reyes would be  _ this  _ frustrated with his antics. He had better things to worry about, why did Jesse get him so wound up?

The young recruit didn’t like to think of love, thought it to be a sham, but Reyes… he gets McCree feeling something else entirely, even if all he does with that warmth is use it to light the coals under Reyes’ feet and make him squirm not to jump at him and choke the daylights out of him. It was his own form of flirting, in a way, coupled with the suggestive touching and heady eyes he threw Gabriel’s direction when he could and not get cuffed over the head for it.

“Because you don’t deserve a good and proper fuck.” The last word is spat out, enunciated clearly and punctuated with a sudden buck that drove the taut breath Jesse was holding out of him. “You’d be lucky if I pissed in you.”

“Gabe,” he starts, then goes quiet save for the inescapable little gasps that come with Reyes fucking into him, shallow and mean like he acts.

“You want that, Jess?”

Jess. That was… new.

The nickname is salve over the wound that Reyes just opened up, and McCree finds himself shuffling, shifting to get his legs further apart to let Reyes take what he wanted. Now he was just playing with his heart, malleable and putty in his palms, and he feels the way McCree gives with his toying.

“Now you askin’ for permission?” he bites back, agitated by the fact that Reyes has stopped fucking him again while not putting an ounce of stock in Reyes’ words. A man as esteemed as his commander wouldn’t piss in him- it was simply too vulgar, too debauched for him to perform in McCree’s head, so he simply refuses to believe that he will.

McCree locks up in shock, gawking in disbelief with eyes as wide as saucers as he suddenly feels something hot in his guts. Reyes holds him steady, flattening him to his chest with a hand across Jesse’s middle and one threatening his throat. Stiffening, squirming as much as he can with Gabriel pinning him to his body, he feels the stream of piss start to pool in his guts.

“Are you-?”

There’s nothing he could’ve done to stop it, even if he could get his brain to function as he’s overcome with dizzying astonishment. Reyes, stuffed as deep as he can get himself, pisses into his subordinate, restraining him and forcing him to take it. The only sound Gabriel emits is a satisfied sigh, the stream seemingly never-ending. 

It threatens to make the cowboy’s knees give way as it seems to weigh him down, filling him out so well that it aches and forces a warbling moan from his vocal cords. Slumping back against Reyes, who holds his weight with ease, he stares down at his stomach. The slightest bulge is present, just above the nest of dark hair. After what seems like forever, Reyes finally finishes, his cock twitching inside him as every last drop is milked out in shallow ruts.

“You…”

“You’re  _ mine,  _ McCree,” Reyes growls in his ear, hand across his chest coming down to possessively stroke the swell. The action makes McCree’s cock throb visibly, and makes Reyes smile predatorily. The grinding of his hips turns into stunted thrusts, Reyes simply revelling in the novel heat of McCree’s guts, warmed by his load. His piss spills out in droplets, running down McCree’s thighs and soiling his sweats bunched around his thighs. Each and every thrusts jostles his body and the bubble in his guts, making his head swim deliriously.

“You- you actually…” McCree tries, unable to form a coherent thought, “Gabe…”

“No one else will make you feel this good,” Reyes continues, crowding him against the locker again as his hips start to pick up the pace, “No one else can fuck you the way I can.”

Panting and gasping, McCree braces against the metal door as Reyes starts to lay into him, fucking him like a wild animal in rut. The sound between them is louder than anything he’s ever heard before, and unmistakably suggestive, as the slick noises of Reyes’ piss escaping him is accentuated by the slapping of skin against skin. 

No one needed to come into the locker room, merely walking by would alert anyone to their activities.Neither of them cared. 

Drool wets McCree’s lips as he moans, ragged and open-mouthed in ecstasy. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling, or how he’ll feel after, knowing he just let his commander piss in him and claim him as his own, but in the moment all he can process is how good it feels, being fucked so thoroughly by such a perfect cock and being so warm and full and  _ sated. _ It scratched something he didn’t even know itched in him, something instinctual.

Pressing back against him, he struggles to keep his arms steady as Reyes pounds into him. Now that McCree is a right mess, open and wet on his cock, he has no hesitation with abusing his agent’s hole.

“Who do you belong to?” his commander grits out, strained as his pace falters unevenly.

“You... I-I belong to you--”

“That’s right, Jess.” The words are panted now, as Reyes buries his face into McCree’s neck. The angle was just right, punching the breath out of him with each thrust striking his sweet spot dead on. Even if Reyes wasn’t intending for him to, he was so close to finishing, the coiling in his guts tightening to a strangling point, where McCree can’t breath and his limbs start to lock up and-

Without warning, Reyes slips free, leaving McCree empty. Everything spills out and leaves his legs trembling. A pathetically high whine escapes as the edge of his orgasm is tempered, leaving him agitated. There isn’t time to protest as by the time he finds his voice again, Reyes is grunting and fisting his cock over the small of his back. He pushes McCree’s shirt up to his shoulders to try and spare it as thick ribbons of white paint the toned muscles.

“Shit,” Reyes pants, thumb petting the curve of a shoulder blade as he milks himself in long, languid tugs. McCree looks over his shoulder just in time to see the last bead of cum dribble out before Reyes is spreading him open and looking him over. As he looks his agent over, he sweeps his thumb around the puffy rim of McCree’s hole just to see him bare down on nothing, flinching away from the foreign contact. 

McCree turns shy, bashfully hiding his face from his commander as those large hands toy with him. There was nothing he could do to preserve any dignity or any upstanding rank against Reyes, not when he’s painted with his cum, dripping with his piss, and still rock hard himself and damn near ready to start playing nice to get off. If just to remind McCree of his plight, Reyes fondles him in his palm, massaging him and pulling a strangled moan from his wrecked throat.

“You want me to fuck you good and proper, McCree?” Reyes says, his tone inscrutable, “Clean up your act. Then we’ll see what you’re worth.”

There wasn’t disinterest in his voice- there wasn’t much of  _ anything  _ in it. It was as terse as it was if he were to read a report out to a line up. But McCree knew how to pick it apart and find something of substance, mostly in his words, and what he could find was a promise for something more, something better and not like… whatever this was.

Suddenly, the warmth on him disappears as Reyes steps back. With no strength left in his muscles to do anything besides hold himself upright, he can only pant and listen as Gabriel tucks himself back into his sweats and rights his clothes, however he can. When he does get that strength back, Reyes is looking at him oddly.

“Get a shower. I’ll get you some clothes,” Reyes says, turning his head and glancing off to the side as a note of courtesy as McCree pulls his soiled sweats back on. The cowboy grimaces, the cold, wet fabric just short of disgusting, and he’s eternally grateful that Reyes is trying to make him walk all the way back to his quarters for fresh clothes.

“Thanks,” McCree says. He’s not sure what else he should say.  _ Thanks for pissing in me,  _ or  _ maybe some lube next time _ burns the tip of his tongue, both jaded and sardonic as reality weighs in on him. There’s no way that Reyes would want to wrestle with McCree every single time he wanted a quick fuck or deal with the consequences of implicating himself witht a subordinate. He’s already begun the painful process of resigning himself to the title of a one-time stress relief and nothing more to his commander when Reyes steps forward and raises his chin.

The older man is quiet, simply looking between McCree’s guarded eyes. His thumb idly pets the patch of sparse hair on his chin. The longer he looks, the more Jesse starts to crumble at the foundations, until he finds himself soft and pliant in his commander’s palm. It seems to be what Gabriel was looking for, as he does that small laugh of his that barely passes for a huff, absent a smile, as he ruffles McCree’s hair.

“I mean it,” Reyes says, voice smoothed out into tiredness, “I’m asking you to get your act together. I’m not asking you to be nice.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Jesse says, rolling his eyes in good nature. 

“And do something about this,” Reyes says before surprising McCree. He gropes at his length, still hard and heavy in his sweats, making McCree tense and bite his tongue. 

“Yessir,” he says, almost without thinking, and  _ that  _ makes Reyes chuckle,  _ that  _ makes him grin. It makes McCree blush to his ears and scowl, trying to act like Reyes no longer had such an effect on him, “Whatever.”

“Take a late lunch, line up for evening drills at 1700 sharp.”

“Heard,” McCree mumbles, watching Reyes disappear around the corner of the locker room entryway, absolutely lost for words. So much happened in such a short span of time, something Gabriel himself is pondering as he heads over to the recruitment center to pick up fresh clothes. Reyes had made the first move onto Jesse, something the cowboy never expected despite years of pining that Reyes more or less shared, if only as a growing pool of lust and not compassion for each other. 

McCree cared, or tried to, for Reyes’ harsh exterior and guarded interior, just as Reyes tried to look past the facade the agent put on to hide his vulnerabilities. It made it hard to truly care for each other outside of professional requirements. Now, with Reyes promising to reward his good behavior with further endeavors, McCree finds himself biting his lip, jerking himself off slow and sweet in the showers to the thought of his commander taking his time with the cowboy, being real tender and soft with him for once.

Reyes hasn’t quite gotten there yet, still thinking about claiming the cowboy as his own rather than the domestics that it’ll entail, although he wouldn’t be too upset at the passing thought of sharing soft kisses between each other where it can be afforded. Something had to be stirring in his chest, something strong enough to make him propose such a promise in the first place, something that made him outright exclaim an ownership over Jesse in the heat of the moment.

It wasn’t just for the body of the man he was fucking into, he knows that much, or else he’d be sleeping around the base like no bodies business. Something about McCree strikes him low and hard in the gut, something unique to him that no other agent possesses.

Tossing a pair of new sweats and a shirt down on the benches just outside the communal showers, he catches something under the hiss of running water. Soft words muttered like a prayer as Jesse tries to act like his hand isn’t his own and that he wasn’t alone in the showers. Gabriel hovers longer than he should’ve, just straining to hear the words he groans as he finally finishes, something just shy of an admission that catches Reyes off guard, trips him up when he gets back to the training rooms, and sticks in the front of his mind as he meets eyes with McCree across the room for evening drills.

**Author's Note:**

> turned out a bit longer than i intended, but i wanted to test out a more dom/dom dynamic (it didn't really end up being dom/dom, more mccree just letting his hole get destroyed and being a brat lol). also this is my first attempt at writing watersports to any degree, and i'm trying to fine-tune my writing style to really achieve the full effect of the kink. definitely going to write more at some point in the future
> 
> any comments/suggestions are greatly welcomed!


End file.
